Venting Stars

In truth, let the words simply be words,

For they are a poor medium to express my mind,

To shine light upon the things that have dwelled in darkness.

They try, and they try their best,

But in the end, discerning meaning through the fog of war,

Is surely no simple achievement.

 

Words – huddled,

And muddled too.

Lines and lines, without commas to break.

Each syllable felt, each intention taken.

Oh, please forgive the occasional misinterpretation.

 

Watching fleeting images of self-doubt,

Listening to the confusing lyrics of orderless orientation;

Haphazard in what is thrown, and what is devoured.

And yet, it’s nothing but home…

 

Tell me, and tell me straight-

Straight faced, based in all truth, without hesitation.

And, promise me you’ll try…

To pass on the singularity of blinding night,

Always climbing from the relentless abyss,

The scourge of extra-terrestrial bottom feeders.

 

Sure, things will pass,

And things will fade – life in all ways.

But let this be real, and let yourself feel;

Unhindered and without a morsel of regret.

 

In a life so apparently bleak.

A world so cold.

Both hands are held, balanced, equally as giving.

Resting on shoulders, closing weary eyes.

Let it all flow…

Let it all be unhinged, relieved of all burden…

 

 

 

 

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